Nurse The Hate

Friday, March 31, 2017

Nurse the Hate: Comrade Trump Has A Problem

It doesn’t look good for Comrade Trump.Michael Flynn coming out of nowhere to
publicly offer testimony in exchange for immunity isn’t exactly a strong
endorsement of the White House’s claims that “the Russia story is a hoax”.If I have recently been publicly shamed and
cast out of the kingdom, the last thing I am going to do is thrust myself into
the public spotlight once again and scream “Hey!Forget about me?” if I wasn’t concerned about going to prison.Most elderly privileged white dudes don’t
have “prison” as a box checked off on their retirement goals.I am guessing that he is having the squeeze
put on him by some humorless government intelligence agency, likely one of the
ones that Trump decided to immediately alienate and call out upon taking
office. In retrospect, this was a bad decision on his part.

I have some friends that are Trump supporters.These are seemingly reasonable people
otherwise.I couldn’t for the life of me
figure out how they could be looking at the never ending cascade of damning
events being revealed and still insist that there is no story with Trump and
his people colluding with Russia.They
are completely inflexible in this position as well.It’s like being in the same classroom and
having the teacher tell the Big Bad Wolf story, and afterwords your friends
insist there is no connection between the wolf and that sorry ass pig getting
his shitty straw house blown down.

“But,
the wolf came over and said he was going to blow his house down unless he let
the wolf in!”NO.That’s not what happened.It’s very common for straw houses to get
blown down, and the Big Bad Wolf was in that neighborhood for reasons very
easily explained, which the Wolf has promised to do very soon after launching a
full investigation on how that house got blown down.The Big Bad Wolf believes the American People
deserve to know what happened to that poor little pig’s house.Anything you have heard about the Big Bad
Wolf blowing that house down is fake news.“But the Wolf said he was going to do it!Here’s a video of him saying it!”You are taking what the wolf said
literally.When he said “blow your house
in”, he said it in quotes which can actually mean he wants to build him a new
house. A better house. The best house.

It’s enough to make your head explode.

So I watched some more Fox News this week while whacked out
on the couch with meds.If you haven’t
watched a few hours of Fox News, you should do so.You immediately understand why your friends
seem insane.They aren’t crazy.They are just watching a reality show with a
completely different story line than the rest of us.On that TV show, America (translated to white
people like you) is under siege by strange brown people and their Godless
accomplices in the Democratic Party which want to take away your basic freedoms
and reward these brown rapists and murderers for no discernible reason. Common sense and christian values are under attack. Everything is urgent.Everything is Breaking News!Major stories on every other news source are
omitted completely if they don’t serve the story line.Other stories are featured if they help the
story line.It’s a real wild scene.It’s like watching an Ohio State Football
pregame show on a Columbus TV station where Michigan is Isis. CNN is biased. Fox News is alternative facts. On every major news source Flynn looking for immunity is an obvious sign this guy is in up to his neck and is looking for an out. On Fox, it's "a smart legal play... just protocol... nothing significant" and then brushed off as a nonevent. I suppose we'll see about that.

I had thought Carter Paige would have been the first to flip. He looks like a squealer to me. However, Flynn makes sense. He is already on the hook for something and been cut loose from the inner circle. I can see him now pacing back and forth in his dark wood paneled study saying "I'm not going to be the goddamn patsy in this thing!". He is making a pragmatic move a military mind would make. The real key to this thing is Paul Manafort. That guy is a slick hustler with no moral compass. By all appearances he sold out our nation's ideals so he could make some dough from some Russian thugs, and then even screwed the Russians over when his check was due. My money is on him being the guy that put the Russians and Trump together so they could all make some dough. Manafort does have balls of steel and will approach this like a poker game. He will play all sides and look for a personal win. As Paul Manafort goes, so does Trump. These two will either spend the rest of their lives in jail as historical villains or sweep the whole business under the rug somehow.

No matter what channel you are watching this show on, it's a helluva show. It's the only show worth watching right now. I can't wait for today's episode.

Wednesday, March 29, 2017

Nurse the Hate: The New Grill

Most people had never seen either parental figure at the Klecko
household, though we all assumed that certainly one must have always been
inside.It never would have occurred to
us that the boys were actually fending for themselves in the small suburban
house.That would have been something
completely extraordinary, and nothing extraordinary had ever happened in our
general area for all of recorded history.So when we heard other parents make comments like “it’s like those boys
have been raised by wolves”, we didn’t know how close to the truth that was,
assuming you agreed that the family german shepherd Simba carried any authority
in the home.I saw the Dad every now and then.He was a guy with a brush cut that always
wore short sleeve dress shirts.My image
of him is of fishing a cigarette out of the pocket while threatening the boys.

The eldest brother Tom was a shadowy figure.Tom had an acoustic guitar he continually
plucked at while lying on his bed in his room.Despite hours and hours of him plinking, he never improved and I do not
believe he could play a song from beginning to end.He did know the beginning of “Ziggy Stardust”
though, and after a failed attempt at “Stairway To Heaven”, he would often
retreat back to the comfortable chord changes of Ziggy.Tom had long blonde hair and always wore a
fringed leather jacket.He liked to
smoke cigarettes while leaning against the basketball pole, secure in his role
as the elder statesman.Tom had a
beautiful girlfriend that broke up with him that May, and for most of the summer
he wore that heartache like a bruise.Whenever
I saw Peter Fonda in a movie, it always made me think of Tom.

Terry was a year younger than Tom.At the time, it was popular to say that Terry
“just wasn’t right”.I overheard my
elderly neighbors say once, “I think Terry is touched”.The bottom line was Terry was fucking
crazy.Everyone was nervous when Terry
was around, even Tom.Terry had a short
fuse, and the slightest thing would set him off.He was generally suspended from school for
fighting, so I didn’t see him there very often.My policy with Terry was to avoid him at all costs so as to minimize the
chance of him going crazy on me.The
last time I physically saw Terry was when he made a crying teenage boy jump off
a train trestle 25 feet into a creek.Somehow
the boy’s parents got involved, which led to the police getting involved, which
led to Terry enlisting in the Navy as a way to “straighten him out and give him
some structure”.Two years later I heard
Terry punched his commanding officer in the face, jumped into the harbor in
Manila and was AWOL.

I was friends with Joey, the youngest.Joey was a tough kid, but he had some
substance to him.He was a 13 year old
boy that had this leathery exterior with sadness in his eyes.Joey was really bright, but would play down
his intelligence.I think Terry would
beat him if Joey made him feel stupid, so Joey just kept quiet even when he
knew the answers to things.Joey was
always very dodgy whenever I would ask about his parents.My understanding was his father traveled a
lot and his mother worked nights.I remember
seeing his father once in a while, but never his mother.I stopped asking about her when he blew up on
me one afternoon and punched me in the stomach.As boys we were used to hitting each other, but this was far over the
line over our wordlessly agreed violence level.That was the end of that.

By the time I got to high school I didn’t spend much time at
the Klecko house.I was on the college
prep plan, and Joey had fallen in with “the rats”, a.k.a. the kids that took
shop class and went to tech classes.We
had been pretty close, but after a year in a new clique, we hardly even acknowledged
each other any longer.High school has
strict rules after all.One day I saw a “For
Sale” sign in front of their house, and they moved out shortly afterwards.An Indian family moved in with a girl in my
class.She and I never interacted
once.Her father had that bushy mustache
Indian fathers always seemed to have, and would stare at us boys with crossed
arms and an all-knowing expression as if he had just saved his chunky silent
daughter from our ravenous sexual advances.

The only reason I mention the Indian family at all is
because during my second year of college they decided to put in a new patio.When the workers dug up the area for the ultra-deluxe
50,000 btu Weber Grill station area, they were shocked to discover human
remains.The authorities later matched
the dental records of the skull with that of Mrs. Klecko.I remember reading the small print typed item
from a USA Today clipping my father sent me to my dorm mailbox. They found Mr. Klecko living in Galveston
TX.They arrested him, but I think he
claimed Terry did it while he was away and he just couldn’t turn his son
in.He went to jail for a lot less time
than you’d think.They never found
Terry.When I heard about that whole
thing, it sure explained a lot about that summer and about Joey.

The Indian family sold the house at a loss about a year
later.Someone named Garrison lives
there now.They seem nice.

Tuesday, March 28, 2017

Nurse the Hate: Hate Buckfast

I subscribe to an online newsletter called “Drinks Business”.It is this UK based alcohol business
newsletter that I was told with a wagging finger that I had better read.It is almost completely useless to me as most
of the articles are about obscure brands and markets in which I will never come
in contact.They run a lot of stories
about things like “Local Wankers Make Gin and Tonics at Posh Event With Obscure
Gin Brand” and “Rudd Brothers Announces Partnership with Sporty Spice’s Navarra
Winery”.It’s all British shit.Lots of pictures of pale guys named Roger and
pasty women named Emma smiling with drinks.Every
once in a while an article peaks my interest…

Yesterday I saw what might be the greatest alcohol promotion
of all time.As per the picture above, a
product called “Buckfast” created an obviously child targeted packaging Easter
promotion.If you buy this special
Buckfast package, you’ll get a chocolate easter egg, a small bottle of
Buckfast, and “Buckfast Merchandise”.It’s
all quite exciting.Especially since the
“special merchandise” was a Buckfast disposable pen and lighter.This was the work of a marketing genius.I cannot tell you how jealous I am that my
fingerprints are not on this thing.I
may have been the mind that came up with that Cowslingers poster with “free
cigarettes for the kids”, but this is out of my league.To combine an Easter egg, booze, and a
lighter?It is inspired!What twisted mind ventured there?

The story got even
better when I looked into Buckfast.“Bucky”,
as it is affectionately known, is a “tonic wine”.What this means is that either cheap bulk
wine or maybe just straight grape juice has ethanol dumped into it to level it
off at 15% alcohol.Making it even more
exciting, they add more caffeine than a Red Bull plus “special ingredients”
(which appear to be terrifying chemicals).This is a MadDog Turbo. From what
I gather, it tastes like cough syrup and rips your face off. This is what “Neds” drink.I have learned a “Ned” is essentially a
Scottish jugaloo or perhaps their version of a Wichita Buzzcut.There is a staggering amount of Buckfast
drunk around Glasgow, so much so that police records indicate that 43.4% of
Scottish inmates had consumed Bucky before their last offense.With 15% alcohol, a screw top, and a nice
little glass bottle, Bucky is actually used as the weapon itself in many
offenses.Scotland is pretty “stabby”.

Now get ready for the best part.Buckfast is made by monks.There is a Scottish abbey called Buckfast
Abbey nestled into a picturesque little corner of the country.From there these servants of God lord over
this mayhem making enterprise.I couldn’t
find how much loot they were raking in, but it is estimated that 54% of all
glass litter in a typical Scottish town are Buckfast bottles.One report suggested they made 40 million
pounds in sales last year.By the way, I
have absolutely no idea what the pound to dollar conversion rate is and I never
have.I just nod my head knowingly when
stats are thrown around in pounds.That
could be $461.I think it’s more though.40 million pounds seems like a lot of “tonic
wine” sold at 7 pounds a bottle.

More than anything I wish someone would walk me through that
meeting where they green lit the Easter Egg promo.I picture a long dark wooden table with
thoughtful monks in robes gathered.Chanting
can be heard echoing down a long marble hallway.“Brother Edgar, so you propose we package our
sacred tonic wine with an Easter Egg, condom, and a throwing star?”Yes brother.Tis the season.(The monks all murmur
to one another)“Brother Edgar… Methinks
that is too much to give the people at once.Can we give them God’s love, but in another form?”Ummm…How about a pen and a lighter with the Easter egg?(Excited talking amongst them all)“It is decided!Praise God!”

There was some criticism on this package however.The fact it went to market at all is
incredible.The company isn’t going to
pull them either.They are just going to
sell the ones out that are in the market and not print any more.What are you going to do?Bring legal action on a bunch of monks?I have already gone onto Amazon and secured
my Buckfast Holiday box.Please, come on
over this Easter.I will hide the Easter
Egg and you can try and find it.And if
you do, I will stab you in the fookin’ neck with me Buckie bottle!Falbh dairich fhein!

About Me

As the singer of The Whiskey Daredevils, a group of barely talented dead beat no frills rockers, I travel a great many hours in a van. In this van, many opinions are formed that need to be shared in this space. There are many things that make sense in the van that don't make nearly as much sense in the cold harsh light of daylight. This is not my concern.